Timelines We Shared
by Suga Bee
Summary: Oneshots of RusAme and others, depicting meetings, the loved, the lost, and everything in between.   Read inside summary for more on the topic. :


***walks in slowly.* I want to start my three part apology with this.**

**My other RusAme story is getting slow...**

**So I'm trying to drabble a bit in other things to get a feel for what I want, and what you guys want. :) **

**To those who have no idea what I'm talking about, try reading my other story "We Were There Once." **

**This is just (for now, unless you guys want something else) a place where I can just depict a few seperate scenes with my fave couple and really try to nail down characters, descriptions, and little one hits. Ok? Please don't hate me! :(**

* * *

><p>"Don't you <span>dare<span> waste your life Alfred. I didn't raise you stupid. I didn't bust my ass for 17 years for you to let it slip away, do you understand me?"

There was a stifling silence that seeped in suddenly, and for the first time in his entire life, the ball of sun known as Alfred F. Jones wished he could just curl up and disappear from the stark cold gaze of his father. He wished that his pants weren't tattered at the knee, and that his bandana wasn't so tight around his neck. The wind was a boiling burn and not a drop of breeze dared to rustle as the two stood there, cicadas singing harsh and hot close by. Alfred didn't raise his head as his eyes darted to look up at this foreign, angry man through thick lashes, and just as quick as he had decided to make eye contact, he whipped himself inwardly and shifted his weight to the left, eyes falling on the rolling corn fields beside the old house.

"Alfred I..." The tone was hesitant and lethally deep, lovingly deep, fatherly deep. "I just want the best for you. I don't want you livin here," his old, battered hands gestured loosely to the shack by where the corn lay, with broken windows and peelin' paint. "You were destined for greatness, your good ol mother said so when she held you. She said, 'Benjamin, mark my words, this boy will be someone. He'll leave all this behind, he'll grow wings and fly off somewhere.' Bless her heart, if she could see how far you've come already with school, with your sports, she would think you've already reached greatness. But you can't let it die here."

Alfred's ears were keen to the straw sound of the scarecrow being shuffled in an updraft, the wind snagging his clothes and pulling at the tatters. Mathew could be heard busying himself in the kitchen with pots and pans, humming an old hymn that Alfred liked to hear on deep summer nights and in the winter during church. His father's words were bleary and feebly poking themselves at him like little warriors with blunt spears. He's heard this before. He'd hear it again. He'd probably hear it the rest of his life.

"You listen' boy?"

"Yes Papa." It was a lie, but he had gotten used to doing that, and with learned sweetness, he smiled at the man whom he had bent head and knee to for almost 18 years, and those eyes were a weathered stormy blue which had seen civil wars and poverty from his porch step, and his shoulders were chipped from hard lumber work and planting year after fertile year, and for a moment Alfred saw an ox in his father, and a horse pulling an old wagon, and he saw a flash of himself, beaten down and dragged through the dirt of age in those evaporated, watery depths and he drew the man into a soft embrace.

"I don't wanna leave, but Papa I got to. He says he can make something out of me. I can be somebody."

There was an evident hurt in those sapphires now. Eighteen years had rolled on and he hadn't been able to make his boy into anything. And now some city slicker was the one who would mold him. Shape him. Take malleable little Alfred in those hands and form him into a successful man.

"Let him do you right. Cause damn it Alfred, you only get one chance. And with your luck, this is it."

**-VV-**

His brother looked like a weeping willow, his golden curls like Spanish moss sitting on the sturdy boughs of his shoulders, tears dead set to sit on his eyelids as he watched Alfred pack.

"He's takin you away from me."

Alfred let the verbal spike seep into his back and he continued on, folding his good shirts soft and slow as to not put a wrinkle in one.

"He comes out of nowhere and suddenly he's your entire life."

He sighed heavily as his anger dissipated, he knew Mathew was only being sharp because of the circumstances. "Mattie, it's not like that-"

"You think he sees you as anything but what you are? You ain't no better than the rest of us. You pick corn with the same hands, your strain the same muscles as we pull the same plough, we came from the same womb. But Papa always told you, 'you were destined for greatness'. Mother too. They shoved and shoved that lie down your throat until you couldn't do anything but swallow it and be good. This ain't nothin. You'll be back. You just see. Ivan wants nothing but a little fun, a little trust and you'll be done with. You'll be like a horse with a limp-"

"Mathew stop-"

"_He'll put you down_."

If Alfred hadn't been raised with Mathew as close as they were, he wouldn't have been able to see the liquid jealousy in his eyes, or recognize the shivering in his tight chest, and the way his fists were white knuckled around the bed's cherry foot board. "I'm sorry, Mattie."

"No you're not." Matthew spat, those tears budding and breaking free, one little trail formed it's wet mark down his heated cheeks.

Alfred closed the suitcase and strode towards his twin and took his head in his hands, bending to kiss the curls on his crown and pull him into a breath taking hug.

"Don't fool yourself Alfred, you think he sees you any different than the rest of us country folk? You can't wash off the dust of the South, it seeps into your pores, and you'll always smell of creek water and sweet corn bread and horses. Your hands will be gruff and roughed with splinters and calluses, your voice will always be deep and drawl, that farmer's tan will never fade, and you'll always have that cattle branding mark."

They both chuckled at the memory, the tattoo burning a bit as Alfred remembered the day the two young boys had found the iron rode white hot and wondered what would happen if-

"You double dog dared me, what else was I supposed to do?" Alfred's chapped lips stretched into a smile, his hands working through his brothers matted curls. His brother was right. He had been born and bred in this old country, he couldn't change that. But he could change his future. He could learn to be different. But different wasn't what Mattie wanted. Mattie wanted good ol Alfred. Southern Alfred, twin brother always there like a sun rise Alfred. "If I promise to come back, will you forgive me?"

Mathew hated looking into those cerulean eyes and not being able to say no. "Promise?" he whispered so softly that it barely broke the thoughts forming between them.

"Promise."

* * *

><p><strong>So...<strong>

**Is this any good? **

**Maybe could be more than a oneshot? **

**Maybe too OOC? **

**BTW, don't judge me on Country!Matthew. I kinda like it. :P **

**Tell me your thoughts! Please review! You get cookies for reviewing! **

**Also tell me what you want to see more of! **

**More angst? Fluff? Adventure? Twists? Couples maybe? **

**Different Anime? lol. Keep in touch, I might be doing Fruits Basket real quick ! ;)**

**With love, **

**Suga Bee**


End file.
